


The Fall

by DrJLecter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #SaveHannibal, Hurt/Comfort, I needed to write this, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Spoilers, Tenderness, injuries, murder fluff, seriously if you haven't seen the finale don't read, the missing scene between the cliff and the after credit scene, there isn't actually anything happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJLecter/pseuds/DrJLecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened after Will decided to be an idiot? This is my take on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in less than an hour. It just had to get out or my emotions would have killed me. SOMEONE SAVE THIS GODDAMN SHOW.
> 
> thank you Hils for checking it over for me!

The fall through the darkness felt endless. Cold wind tore at his clothes, but Will barely felt it. He was still wrapped around Hannibal, arms around his torso and shoulders and he felt Hannibal gripping him just as tight. There was not enough air to say something even though it felt as if they had all the time in the world. 

It was more a feeling than a visual clue telling him that they were turning over and over in their fall. They were falling towards their death. Will had killed them both. If they survived the impact with the surface they’d die of blood loss and the freezing temperatures of the water. 

Will didn’t feel sorry. Right now he felt at peace. He’d done what he had to do. The Dragon was dead. Hannibal was a free man and he would die a free man and Will was with him in the end. Everything he’d wanted had happened. 

He felt a pang of sadness that the end had to come sooner than he’d hoped for. Sacrificing himself and Hannibal for the people who called themselves his friends seemed suddenly quite stupid and he buried his face against Hannibal’s solid form, regret turning his stomach way more than the blood loss and the dizzying fall ever could. 

Strong arms held him tighter and then everything was gone.

+++

His world exploded in agony when he opened his eyes the next time. His whole body was a ball of throbbing pain, racing through his bones and muscles with two sharp centers in his shoulder and the right side of his face. Every breath he took seemed to worsen the way his chest splintered into what felt like a million pieces. 

A groan worked itself past his lips. 

Even the air in his mouth seemed to cause more pain. 

Trying to breathe steadily through the hurt he tried to remember what the hell had happened to get him here. It all came back like a punch to his stomach and before he realized what he was doing he opened his eyes and sat up, adrenaline momentarily numbing the pain. “Hannibal!”

Wrapping his arms around himself as if to hold his body together, he looked around with wide eyes. He was in a small wooden boat cabin, lying in a narrow cot next to a small table and a chair. A cupboard was standing on the opposite wall of the tiny room and a couch right next to it, a couch which was occupied by the still form of Hannibal Lecter. 

Trying to get up from the cot turned out to be a bad idea and he found himself as a miserable heap on the floor. He could feel the gentle movement of the boat on the waves now and he concentrated on the familiar feeling to settle his stomach and his spinning head. He felt carefully with his fingers for his shoulder wound and realized that it had been bandaged up. A cautious touch to his face showed him that his cheek had also been covered and taken care of.

Frowning he stared at Hannibal who was still lying there, not moving, pale and still and worry spiked through his chest, worse than any physical pain ever could. 

“Hannibal. Hannibal, come on, don’t be stupid now.”

Gasping he started to shift across the floor. Just a few feet, but it felt like climbing a mountain before he finally knelt in front of the couch. 

With immense relief that left him weak he saw the shallow movement of Hannibal’s chest. Medical supplies were scattered around him, but Hannibal must have fallen unconscious before he could finish taking care of himself.

Warmth spread through Will’s chest. 

“Stupid man with your stupid _compassion_ ,” he chided gently as he slowly started to check the man’s wounds. The word felt insufficient even to himself. 

He didn’t know what he would tell Hannibal when he woke up. How could he explain the decision to push them into their (apparently not so) certain death, when he himself didn’t know anymore? The only thing he was sure of now was that they’d finally found their way to each other and the first thing he did with it was try to kill them both. 

They’d been like pieces of the same puzzle, knowing they fit together perfectly, but always trying the wrong sides and places, always hurting each other in the process until finally, they found their place with the feeling of greatest relief, ending the struggle of their lives, leaving only blessed happiness and beauty warming their hearts. 

“Why couldn’t you have been a normal serial killer?” Will asked, carefully pressing a gauze bandage to the bullet wound. Hannibal must have been lucky. If there had been severe damage to internal organs he’d be dead by now. 

“Where would’ve been the fun in that?” the raspy voice of Hannibal spoke up. 

Will didn’t take his eyes off of what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop the smile from tilting up his lips. “Yeah, I’ve had _so_ much fun,” he quipped. 

A clammy hand was pressed to his cheek suddenly and his breath left him at the touch. 

“Will.” 

Will swallowed hard at the earnest and serious tone. 

“Why?”

Smoothing the gauze gently over the skin, Will tried to collect his thoughts, before moving his gaze to Hannibal’s face. He was pale and sweat was glistening sickly on his skin, short hair plastered to his head and for the first time in a while he found it hard to meet Hannibal’s eyes. 

“I…,” he swallowed and tried to moisten his mouth. “Maybe I was afraid. It was too good and suddenly I was afraid of losing it. What if Jack found us, what if our injuries were too severe, what if we’d been separated again. I couldn’t…” he huffed in frustration. “Mostly… mostly I was scared about how good it had felt to kill Dolarhyde with you. Together.”

He looked up from where his hands had gripped the couch and found himself captured by the strength of the yearning he found in Hannibal’s eyes. The hand on his face gently pushed his hair out of his face and behind his ear, fingers stroking over his skin. 

Will let his eyes fall shut and leaned into the touch with a sigh. How long had he wished to allow this, to be able to actually express his want for this. Always scared, unsure, stopped by what he thought was right and wrong. 

Suddenly the boat rocked on a bigger wave, jolting Will out of his trance and he shook his head to find his way back into reality. Hannibal’s hand fell away and the man closed his eyes, clearly exhausted beyond the point of what he could pretend to ignore. 

Slowly and stiffly Will rose to his feet, clenching his teeth around a pained groan as the blood rushed out of his head. For a moment his vision turned black. He felt his heartbeat throb painfully in his cheek and in his shoulder and he still had trouble believing that he hadn’t suffered more serious injuries in his face. As far as he could feel he still had all his teeth and neither his tongue nor the roof of his mouth were damaged. 

Throwing another quick look to Hannibal he started to search the cupboards, relieved to find water bottles and rations of food. 

“Where are we? How did we get on this boat? Is it yours?”

Opening one of the small bottles he sat down on the edge next to him, carefully lifting Hannibal’s head to let him sip a few swallows of water before settling him down again.

“I bought it while preparing for our escape with Abigail. I wanted to be equipped for all possibilities and I thought you would value the opportunity to sail with it across the world.”

Will hated himself with every fiber of his being in that moment. 

A hand on his leg made him look up. “It’s in the past. We can start anew and do exactly that now and so much more.”

Gently Will placed his hand on top of Hannibal’s and laced their fingers together. The novelty of touching Hannibal like this would take a while to wear off. 

“I already sailed across the world.” A light frown appeared as Hannibal tried to fit that sentence into what he knew of Will’s life. “To Florence,” he said softly, smiling at the genuine surprise showing in Hannibal’s maroon eyes.

The fingers tightened around his hand and Will gripped back. This could work. This could really work. He was still terrified of what the future would bring, maybe more than ever, but for the first time in his life he didn’t have to face that alone and there wasn’t anyone stronger or better suited for this than Hannibal. 

“Should I set the sails?” 

Hannibal smiled. 

“Not yet. There’s someone we have to visit first. I promised her dinner.”

+++

**Author's Note:**

> So there. It's basically nothing, but I needed to write some comfort. Ugh. This show. This finale. It was perfect. 
> 
> *waits more or less patiently for s4*


End file.
